


Codename: The Surgeon

by englishrose2011



Series: The Dark Side [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Betrayal, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Phil coulson & OMC implied, sexual implied non con during SHIELD interrogation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2148231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishrose2011/pseuds/englishrose2011
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Prequel to WELCOME TO THE DARKSIDE - THE PAST CHAPTER ONE</p><p>Before there was Senior Agent Phil Coulson, there was The Surgeon.</p><p>Now Phil's past is about to come back to haunt him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kidnapped

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My sister Eileen](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+sister+Eileen).



> Thanks to my beta reader Antoinette, for all your support, all errors are mine.

Agent Thomas Wilson climbed down the ladder from the docking hatch, linking the Bus to the Quinjet; he was greeted by Senior Agent Phil Coulson, with a handshake, and a polite smile. He exchanged a few quick words with him, as Coulson made him all aware what his responsibilities concerning SHIELD flight 616 and its crew were, while he was away in New York meeting with Director Fury. 

It was with some relief that he watched Coulson boarded the Quinjet, through the docking tunnel, once both hatches were closed, the docking tunnel between the two aircraft was retracted as the Quinjet powered up, and released its clamps, and pulled away smoothly from the larger aircraft. 

Forty five minutes later Agent May heard a transmit ion from the Quinjet, “Transponder Seven Five Zero, Quinjet 1879,” then there was a sound like a gun shot.

The sudden loud noise over the radio make her flinch, she immediately hit the comm, “Agent Wilson we have a Delta red alert.” 

Her attention was back to the radio, as she started the emergency protocol, but all attempts to establish contact with the Quinjet failed. They could transmit but couldn’t receive. She heard two more gunshots and then. “I can’t believe that Matt was HYDRA sir He.” The pilot was cut off in mid-sentence by a voice she recognised, Coulson.

“Can you get the jet down?” 

“Yes sir.” On the heel of the pilot’s words there was a loud bang and alarms screaming in the background. “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, Quinjet 1879 is going down, repeat we are going down,” there was a touch of fear in the pilots voice. 

There was static, and then his voice came back on.

“This is Quinjet 1879 we are losing height, and have lost vertical thrust, our power is failing, we will not make the mountain, and I am going to put it down. Tracker is active, signal strong. Six on board, one dead. 7500 situation contained. Repeat 7500 situation contained.” He paused, “Sir your need to go back to the passenger section, you can’t help me now.”  
There was a long pause, with only the background noise, then the pilot said “God help us we’re going in.” Then there was nothing but static on that frequency.

There was controlled panic in the Bus, as Skye’s fingers flew over the keyboard as she helped to track the stricken Quinjet while Wilson worked on finding a landing site for the Bus near the projected crash site. As soon as the Bus landed, the rear loading ramp dropped down and a black SHIELD SUV came speeding out.

They found the Quinjet, half a mile away it had come down hard cutting a furrow through the ground as it tore off its landing gear, skidding on its belly across a ditch and dirt road before ending up in a stand of trees, the emergency hatch had been blown open and at the base of the stairs laid the crumpled body of Specialist Lawson, the jet’s onboard security officer, he had taken multiple bullets to the chest. 

Wilson and May approached the jet carefully, May was the first on board, clearing the door quickly to one side to allow Wilson to board and move into the passenger section, as she took the cockpit. She found both pilots dead; one from a tree branch that had penetrated the window screen when it had crashed into the trees hit him in the chest, the other, a bullet to the head. She heard Wilson call out confirming the rest of the jet was clear. Only then, were Fitzsimmons allowed onboard. 

There was blood in the passenger section; the brief case Coulson had been carrying when he had boarded was on the floor, along with his personal weapon. Wilson checked Coulson’s gun he had unloaded half a clip, and by the looks of it into Lawson. Fitzsimmons began their forensic sweep of the jet. 

Fitz was knelt by Coulson’s briefcase, it had stopped a rogue bullet, the side buckled, “no attempt had been made to break into it, so it’s possible Sir.”  
He waited for Wilson to acknowledge him, “That whatever they wanted it was Agent Coulson, and not the information he carried.” 

“Agent Wilson,” Jemma held the packet containing the blood swab from the inside of the plane; she had broken the chemical pellet, and was studying the result. “I can confirm the blood we found is the same group as Agent Coulson’s, I will need to test it a positive DNA identification. 

 

Agent Wilson, took a steadying breath, he could imagine the reaction a Delta 9789 was going to have, on Fury. Coulson was a level 9 operative, a Sub-director of the Dark Side he was the only Level 9 that still worked the field, and he had been lost on his watch. 

0-0-0-0-0-0  
Coulson came round to a sharp blow across the face that rocked his head back violently, his hair was caught in a hard grip and his head was pulled back, so that he was looking into the face of a man he hadn’t seen for over a decade. 

“Remember me Surgeon,” the man gloated, “don’t worry, it will come to you, and we will have plenty of time to get to know each other again,” then with a smile he added “Hail Hydra.”


	2. Surgeon: Agent of Hydra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The orders are simple recruit the Surgeon or kill him.   
> But catching him isn't going to be easy.

Eighteen Years ago

SHIELD HQ

Agent David Gates was a formerly an FBI agent before he was recruited by SHIELD’s Dark Side, which specialized in black ops. Over the last five years he had worked his way up from being a foot slugging drone, which was a quick way to get you killed, into a valued field agent, and a level 6 handler. 

David sat at this desk in a cupboard size office, which he shared with three other junior handlers, when Luke Miller, Level 7 dropped a file in front of him. He knew it was bad because Miller only ever smiled if it was bad news; the bastard got a kick out of it. 

“Go get Kent and saddle up Gates you’ve got a mission.”

“Yes sir.” David said as he pulled the file close, and then blanched, there wasn’t a name as such of the file, just a code name “The Surgeon.” He said the name out aloud without thinking; Miller leaned over just enough to tap the file. 

“Palmer has sanctioned a recruitment protocol if you think you can get him to come in. But if not eliminate him,” Luke Miller left with a spring in his step, pleased to have dodged the bullet on that one himself. 

David leafed through the file, what the hell, if Miller thought he was going to bring the Surgeon in the man was fucking mad, only an idiot would try to get close enough to the Surgeon to actually speak to him. The man was an elite Hydra assassin, he had been a pain in SHIELD’s ass for the last four years; amassing a formable list of kills at their expense. The Surgeon was known for the clinical way that he dispatched his victims, using everything from a sniper’s rifle to a fountain pain. Apart from a blurry CCTV camera, there was no clear photograph to go on; the man never left witnesses behind. 

0-0-0-0-0-0  
Hotel Romano  
6 months later  
Specialist Frank Kent was pissed off, and that was putting it mildly, he was city hopping with Gates his handler, privately he thought Gates couldn’t find his ass with both hands let alone the Surgeon. 

The latest town looked no different than a score of other ones, they had visited, it just a bit larger, and perhaps more run down. But for once SHIELD had sprung for a good hotel, and Frank was looking forward to a little downtime. If anyone deserved it was them, the Surgeon seemed to be one jump ahead of them all the time, and he was sick and tired of hunting the man.

The truth which Gates was hiding from the Director was that they were no closer to actually getting the man than when they started this wild goose chase six months ago. Now finally it looked like they were going to return to New York, if this last lead panned out and that meant home to his wife and family.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Hotel Romano  
Room 546

George Marshal held a high salaried job with Stark Industries, he had started his own investigation into the company when he had notices some computing errors which on their own were nothing special, but over time began to add up to some serious misuse of company resources. He had   
taken his fears to his immediate superior, and was now waiting in a four star hotel to meet with an Agent from SHIELD. It was almost a relief when there was finally a knock on the door, and he let the agent in, now he could tell his story. 

The agent was in his early thirties, less than six feet tall, and dressed in an immaculate black suit, his smile was polite and friendly and it made him feel at ease. The man looked the kind of agent they would send, a forensic accountant, more used to a pencil than a gun. George mused he had a good six inches and 20lbs on the guy and he was more than sure that he could flatten him if the Agent twitched the wrong way. So slowly any misgivings he felt about allowing the man into his room melted away. 

It was only as he turned away to pick up his brief case that it suddenly clicked the man was wearing gloves why would he be wearing gloves in the summer? By then it was too late, he saw something flash by his eyes, and tighten round his throat, a kick to the back of his knee send him crashing down hard onto the floor, as the man pulled back on the garrotte. George clawed at the thing round his neck, his finger nails gauging into own skin as he tried to stop it slicing into his throat, but it was too late, and all he could do was dying, soaked in his own blood as it severed his jugular. 

The man in the black suit left the garrotte in place as he lowered the body to the floor, moving away from the dead body he picked up one of the napkins from the table, and wiped the blood off his gloved fingers. Returning to the body he frisked it, and found a small over the counter audio recorder, it seems that George Mitchell thought he would record the meeting and have his own insurance policy. He pocketed it and then opened the briefcase inside was a Stark state of the art mini laptop, and several XR9 encrypted USB sticks; he closed the briefcase, and headed for the door. Once in the hall he made for the stairwell, as he started down he stripped off his gloves and continued down to the ground floor. 

The Surgeon glanced towards the bar as he left and then paused his lips twitching into a slight smile as he recognised one of the SHIELD agents that had been trailing him in the bar. It made the hit all the more sweeter to think that he did it under the very noses of the men hunting him. He hadn’t realized that they were that close that would need to be looked into later, only a few people knew he had been given the contract. But this was too good to miss. 

The Bar  
Now officially off duty, while Gates was upstairs on his encrypted laptop, trying to find out how the Surgeon had given them the slip once again, Frank decided he was going to get a drink. The hotel bar was reasonably busy, just enough that he could be anonymous, just the way he liked it. He was just taking a slip of his whiskey and soda, when a man eased into the seat by his side, by habit he checked him out. Early thirties, just under six foot, he put him at around five, ten, black suit, nice cut, at a guess a young executive, hell no he corrected a young accountant. He knew the type, and hid a grin behind the rim of his glass as he saw the younger man pull out a Stark phone and begin to check his texts. Looking away, Frank took an appreciative sip of his drink, and savoured it. 

At the sigh, Frank, turned back “problem?” he ventured

“The usual,” the man gave him a polite smile, “a boss with no concept of the artistry in the job, and who just wanting results,” he shook his head wearily.

Frank allowed his grin to blossom into a full smile, “That’s bosses the world over,” then on impulse he put his hand out “Frank.” The man paused and smiled back “Todd” and they shook hands. 

“So what business are you in Todd.”

“Liquidation, you could say.” Todd said, although softly spoken, Frank could hear the amusement in his voice.

“Sounds interesting?”

“It has its moments; it’s more like extreme Human Resources, on a more personal level.” Todd took a sip of his soda water. 

Frank nodded mentally filing the man away now as part of the corporate raider team everyone was talking about, here to butcher the local textile firm in a hostile takeover. It amused him to think that Todd was the hatchet man the numbers guy. Okay maybe he wasn’t the mild mannered accountant he thought he was earlier, more like an accountant with balls to take on a hostile town. He wasn’t surprised the man was enjoying a drink his stress level must have been through the roof, but soda water personally he would want something stronger? “You don’t drink.” Frank put a hand up quickly as if to pacify Todd, “I don’t mean anything bad by that.” 

“I like good Bourbon, but not when I am working.” Todd finished his drink, shook hands, and then disappeared into the now busy bar, briefcase in hand. 

Later when Frank returned to his handler’s bedroom, he found the man was still huddled over his laptop; Frank shook his head that was excessive even for Gates who was working his ass off to be a level 7. When he saw the look of Gate’s face as the man looked up, he knew life had just got a hell of a lot more complicated. 

Two weeks later  
Unlocking his front door and dropping his go-to bag on the floor, Frank took a deep breath followed by a soft sigh as he smelt the pot roast. Home, he was home at last. Grinning he called out “Honey I am home.” 

His daughters came rushing out and hugged him followed by his wife at a more sedate pace, leaning over the girls to give him a kiss. This is what he had missed on the road, he was glad that particular road trip was over, it was been one fuck up after the next, as Intel had always seemed to come in one day late. Their little bird in Hydra that was tipping them off, was not quite as informed as Gates had thought, with that last murder the Surgeon had rubbed their noses in it.”

“Your colleague said you were on the way, I hope you didn’t mind,” Heather said as she took his coat, “he looked so tired, I invited him to dinner.”

Frank frowned, he had left Gates at SHIELD, without wanting to scare his wife, his hand dropping near his weapon, and he walked into the living room, stopping dead in his tracks. It was the man from the bar, Todd, but now he knew he was looking at the Surgeon, it was the only explanation.

“Hello Frank, It seems I beat you home.” The Surgeon’s smile was pleasant just like in the bar, with that same soft spoken voice, the voice of a man who knew he didn’t have raise it to be heard. He looked almost harmless, but Frank knew what he was looking now under that bland exterior a cold blooded killer, Hydra’s top assassin. 

“Agent Bailey missed you in Stratford, and wanted to drop off some files. Heather put in helpfully.

“I am sure he did, darling. Could we have a minute? Business sorry love”

“Of course, just don’t be late, I am dishing up in ten minutes.” 

Once she had left the room he asked “so why is the Surgeon sitting in my living room.” 

“We had such a nice time; I just had to look you up Frank.” 

“Right.” Frank drawled, he could only guess why the Surgeon was there, but he wanted to make sure that the man knew the reason they were looking for him “I was hunting you, but it wasn’t what you think. I wasn’t there to kill you, SHIELD want to recruit you. SHIELD, have recruited people before from your …..Sector.”

“I appreciate the save Agent Kent.” The Surgeon sounded amused.

Frank shook his head “once a Fed always a Fed, Surgeon. Part of me thinks that you should be on death row, the other half think you could be one hell of an asset. That’s why I’ve been hunting you, Director Palmer wants you in.” 

“Terms.”

“SHIELD will wipe your criminal record clean; it will be like you never pulled a trigger. You agree to a contract for a maximum of 10 years, after which you can retire, or reup. If you chose to retire, you will be given a pension on the understanding that you don’t freelance for anyone not on SHIELD’s approved list.” Frank smiled, “We have a great benefit package, we even have dental,” he got a slight smile from the Surgeon, then he added more seriously, “and we don’t leave anyone behind. You join us and we will have your back unlike that incident in Boston with Hydra when you were left hanging. To be honest I am surprised you survived that” 

The Surgeon didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes got colder, and Frank knew he had just said the wrong thing. He had to stop himself from letting his hand drop closer to his gun. Then whatever it was seemed to pass, the Surgeon’s voice was cooler, and Frank had to surpress a shudder, “that has nothing to do with you, Agent. But I will consider what you said.” The Surgeon got to his feet, this interview clearly finished, Frank escorted him to the front door, he was going to make no attempt to contain the Surgeon now was not the time or place. At the door the Surgeon paused “Please give my regrets to your wife, I won’t be able stay for dinner after all, oh and by the way there are two dead Hydra agents in the boot of your wife’s car.”

“Should I be thanking you?” 

“Going after an agent’s family, lacks elegance Agent Kent, and as I said before I like certain artistry in my work.” 

Frank decided to beard the tiger and as the Surgeon went out he lightly caught his arm, he felt the man tense, so he slowly lifted his hand away, “Thank you for protecting them.”

The Surgeon just nodded, and just as he stepped out, Frank said. “I don’t suppose your name’s Todd is it.” 

“Do you speak German Agent Kent?” The Surgeon turned his head slightly towards him as he added “I thought it was apt,” then he was gone. 

“German….” Frank said thoughtfully, then it clicked “son of a bitch.” Tod in German was death, and that summed up the Surgeon.

One hour later, Frank sat in front of Director Palmer, and giving him a personal report as to his interaction with the Surgeon, it turned out that he was the only SHIELD agent to ever survive meeting him. So Frank found himself promoted to Level 6, and assigned only one job, bring the Surgeon in alive. As he was leaving Palmer called to him. “Agent Kent.”

“Yes Sir,” Frank said, turning back.

“Bring him in and you’ll being a Level 7.” 

“7 Sir, but.” 

“A handler with the Surgeon as his elite asset has to carry a level 7 security clearance. Now go find your asset, and don’t disappoint me.” 

Frank hurried out, all too aware of the threat that had hung unsaid in the air, Palmer was all carrot and stick, and he wasn’t afraid to use the stick hard.


	3. The Lycan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Lycan archer find his Alpha in the man in a black suit, and will do anything he can to keep him alive when a meeting results in an ambush by SHIELD

Six months later   
Hydra Base Iowa

Hydra controller Max Harrison had worked hard to get to the level he had attained in the organization and wasn’t going to let some gang of circus freaks, get away with trying to run roughshod over his latest project.

Those circus freaks were going to see what happens when they took on the big boys, and it would also be the opportune moment to remove a particular troublesome thorn in his flesh. He hadn’t had any say, when they had recruited “the Surgeon” into their ranks. The Surgeon had an impressive record of kills to his credit, he was ex-military, and to Max’s disgust, his superiors had gone after him almost on bended knees to join Hydra. 

Now the Surgeon was rising too high and too fast through the ranks, Max already felt himself threatened by the man’s ability, the Surgeon’s mission plans always worked, because he built fail safes into them. So this time the Surgeon had to die, in a blood bath firefight with those circus freaks. The first part of his plan was in operation already, he had used a lowly drone to tip them off that the meeting was an ambush, and that would mean they would use the kid, and he never missed.

0-0-0-0-0  
Seven days later  
Clint Barton was a 20 years old circus performer, an orphan, he and his brother Barney had joined Carson’s Travelling Circus, to escape from an abusive orphanage when he was 10 years old. His marksmanship had been their ticket to what they had hoped to be a new life, but now ten years later, Clint was beginning to feel trapped. Barney had got involved more and more with the criminals that ran the circus, and he had been dragged in as their insurance policy, the sniper that never missed. Men had died at his hands, now all he wanted to do was run, but the last time he had tried to talk Barney into running he had been beaten unconscious, by his mentor as his own brother has stood by and watched. 

Now he was settled into his sniper hide for meeting that wasn’t going to take place for the next 72 hours, the Swordsman had said it was the big payoff, but Clint expected trouble. He had picked his hide well, it was not a location that any other sniper was going to choice because of the distance from the target, which meant that if Hydra decided to bring a few extra cards to the game he would positioned to neutralize them. 

Wrapped in his special heat masking blanket, he was confident that he couldn’t be detected by thermal imaging, if Hydra decided to sweep the area. All he had to do now was wait, but he couldn’t stop his mind going over the whole deal, who the hell did the Swordsman think he was taking on Hydra of all people, they were serious fuckers who would killing them all in a heartbeat once they had the package. Him and Barney, should just run for the hills and get the fuck out of Dodge. But Barney, fucking Barney wasn’t going to listen to him, was he, so he was going to be down there in the mix, relying on his kid brother to keep his ass safe, and he would do it for a brother that hated his guts because Barney was the only family he had left. 

Clint started to going through the mental exercises that Tessa the beaded lady had taught him, to keep himself on an even keel, he could feel his Lycan blood begin to stir, just like he did before any job. The werewolf part of him wanting to run his prey down and tear its throat out, feel its blood dripping from his claws and jaws, as he eat its heart. The werewolf in him was in constant battle against his human side, usually it was an easy for the human side to win, but like this now in the woods, he could feel the were side of him coming forward, and rattling the bars of its cage wanting to get out. Clint gave himself a hard mental shake, and batted down the hatches; he didn’t have time for that now, the hunt would come later. Barney had been lucky to avoid the taint of Lycanthropy that had run through their family. But that didn’t mean that Barney couldn’t use his little brother’s condition, to blackmail and keep him into line. 

0-0-0-0-00-0-0-0

Hydra arrived 38 hours before the meeting to check it out, looking through his scope Clint took a bite of one of the power bars, who the fuck arrived 38 hours before a meeting, 48 or 24 he could understand but 38. The Hydra agents, moved round the site, checking out the ruined buildings of the former logging camp. Soon his attention became fixed on the man in charge, the others wore uniforms but this one had a black suit. Clint couldn’t suppress a chuckle as he mouthed his favourite line from the Blues Brothers, when the woman saw their black suits “Are you the police, No, ma'am. We're musicians.”

The man suddenly turned and looked straight at him, making him pull back from the scope, he knew the man couldn’t see him, but it had still shaken him, the way the eyes has seem to bore straight into him. Clint swallowed hard and returned back to the scope; slowly he allowed the wolf to come forward, bit by bit, not enough for anything like a full change, but just enough so that he would use his werewolf keen senses. Like this it was like riding the edge of a knife, if he let go he would change completely and nothing would stop him from tearing into the men below.  
But by focusing on the man in the black suit he held it back, he wrapped all his senses round him, tilting his head, with the wind in his face he could catch the scent of the man as he moved to the edge of the clearing nearest him. 

Carefully Clint filtered out the coffee on the man’s breath, the deodorant, the tuna sandwich he had eaten, Clint dug deeper. It was then he found what he was looking for the rich dark chocolate and chilli scent that was particularly the Suit. Clint savoured it as if it was the most expensive wine, he felt a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, and reached one hand down to rub himself through his jeans, as he felt himself getting aroused. He bit his lip as he tried to bring his body back under control, when all he wanted to do was go down there, roll on his back, show his belly and offer his throat up to him, to this Alpha in human form.   
Suddenly he remembered what Tessa had said to him about finding his alpha. She knew the twilight world of the Lycan, her brother walked into the shadow of it. It had been Tessa who had told him that when the time came he would know him. There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he realised that the man in black would be one of his primary targets if the meeting turned sour, Clint slowly lowered his head to rest on his arm, his arousal dying away, what was he going to do? 

Taking a shuddering breath, he lifted his head up, and watched as the Suit moved away from the edge of the clearing and back to where a small knot of Hydra agents stood. 

Settling back into position, Clint watched the Suit for the next four or five hours, trying to understand what made him so special. Finally he decided it was more than just the scent, it was everything about the man. There was a cool aura about him that spoke of experience; when he was dealing with the other agents, they jumped to attention and were more animated in their efforts to please him. He radiated a power, not unlike the large cats in the circus, he was an apex predator an Alpha, he didn’t have to flaunt his power it was there, and they respected it. 

Thirty-four hours later, just as dusk was approaching, the meeting between the Swordsman and Hydra went down the pan, as a new group crashed the party; their vehicles had the black on black logo of SHIELD. Hydra turned its attention to the newcomers with a ferocity that allowed the Swordsman and his crew with Barney in tow to escape. 

Clint was just about to pull back when he found himself tracking the man in the black suit; he was fucking awesome, the way he took out the enemy agents. But he noticed that the suit was becoming separated from his own men. Hell no they were doing it on purpose, they were pulling back leaving him exposed. When he saw one of Hydra agents level his gun at the Suits back, Clint didn’t even have to think about it he just fired, protecting his alpha. The gunman was thrown backwards by the impact of the bullet. He saw the Suit spin round, seeing the threat from another turncoat, he cut him down with a double tap and then ducked back under cover, but it wouldn’t be long before he would have no choice but to make a run for the nearest car. 

It was then Clint saw the Suit joined by another Hydra agent, working together the two men headed to the SUV that was standing with its doors opened. The men were unaware of their self-appointed guardian angel, who was taking out anyone that got too close to them. Clint’s heart was in his mouth when the saw the Suit jolt upright as he was thrown into the car door, as he was hit in the shoulder, somehow he managed to drag himself inside, as his companion dived into the driver’s seat and pulled away in a spray of dirt and gravel. 

The next few minutes were frantic as Clint sent down a barrage of fire, killing anyone who got near the car; it was with relief that he saw it finally manage to pull out of the kill zone. But because the roads were blocked, there was only one road that they could take, and that was little more than a dirt track into the heart of the forest. Using up the last of his bullets, Clint took out two of the cars that started after the suit, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before the newcomers took up the chase. 

But he didn’t wait around Clint broke position and took off, as bullets began to pepper round were he had been hiding, he ran with a grin on his face, it had taken them long enough to pin point him. Hiding the gun he quickly stripped naked and changed, to his werewolf form, he wasn’t as big or as powerful as he would be once he had matured, but he was a Lycan, and that made the difference. He powered through the trees, increasing his speed, his senses wide open and stretched to their fullest limit. He hit the clearing around the old saw mill before any of the pursuit vehicles. 

The Suit’s car was in the clearing, it had skidded to a halt, he approached it slowly but it was empty, the passenger’s seat had blood coating it. Bending he inhaled the scent deep in his lungs, then straightened up and sniffed the air, cocking his head slightly he heard the men moving through the trees, one of them was breathing hard, in pain. Clint found the blood trail easily, and began to follow, keeping back far enough not to be seen. It was then he realized that the two men had stopped; Clint cocked his head, and bit back a low growl at what he heard.

0-0-0-0-0

The Surgeon looked up at Sid Fox, from where he was sprawled on the ground; Fox had been loyal to Hydra up until the minute he had clubbed him down. 

Fox smiled at him, gloating, taking pleasure in his position of power, “You couldn’t just die could you Phi, you had to make it hard on everyone?” 

“Who’s paying you Sid?”

“Doesn’t really matter does it Phil, I would have done it for nothing, just to see you on your belly in the dirt.” He raised his gun, smiling, savouring the moment. 

It was then the Surgeon saw movement behind Fox, it came out of the gloom, a living monster from a nightmare, a large clawed hand wrapped round Sid’s throat from behind, as another clawed hand dug into his belly, and then with a roar, the creature ripped into him. In one powerful move it had torn Sid’s throat out, arterial blood spraying across the clearing, at the same time as it evisceration him. The creature let the body drop to the ground and stepped into the clearing, blood dripping from its claws. 

It was a werewolf, not one of the ones that kept human form; this was a Helsin werewolf, topping nearly seven foot of apex predator. The Surgeon slowly reached for his gun, he knew he didn’t have chance to take the werewolf down without silver core bullets, but he wasn’t going to die without a fight. 

The werewolf made an irritated huffing sound, and started forward, only to   
settle back comfortable on its haunches, when he pointed the gun at it, but that wasn’t reassuring. The creature could be on him in one powerful bound, if it wanted, but it seemed happy to just sit there watching him. 

Taking a risk, the Surgeon put the gun in his jacket pocket, and then reached up and used the tree nearest him to pull himself upright, the world tipped violently and for a moment he nearly blacked out. Breathing hard he managed to fight it back, and then looked at the werewolf it hadn’t moved mealy leaned forward slightly, openly scenting him.   
0-0-0-0-0-0

Clint had no regrets about killing the other man, he had been about to kill his alpha. But this wasn’t going to work, his alpha wouldn’t allow him close in his werewolf form, and he had to get him away, quickly before SHIELD started to arrive, and he refused to show the Suit his human form. 

Concentrating hard, Clint folded in on himself, as he shifted into his wolf form.  
For a moment Clint wasn’t sure what to do, then settled for the doggie routine, he began to wag his tail, and pant, and gave a happy little yip to be on the safe side. Gradually he closed the distance and taking a chance nuzzled at the Suit’s leg, and sighed as he inhaled his scent up close for the first time. The heavy scent of the Suit’s blood made him give a throaty growl of displeasure, but immediately he rubbed his head against him again to apologize as he felt the Suit tense. The Suit lay a hand lightly onto his head, Clint moved slightly so he could brush his muzzle against the man’s fingers to reassure him. He could hear cars in the distance, the Suit could hear them too and the man tried to push him away, “you best get you don’t want to be around me, when this goes down.” 

As nice as this was it for the man to care, now was not the time and place for that, it was a time for action, carefully Clint caught the Suit’s, jacket, and began to pull, only for the man to try and push him away, and pull free turning towards where the sound of the cars was getting louder.

Like hell no, Clint through, and kept pulling at him, praying the man wouldn’t shoot him. The Suit paused, and allowed Clint to drag him along. Once he was certain the Suit was going to follow, Clint released him, and settled for chivvying him along, with the occasional nip to his heels when the Suit slowed and had to support himself against a tree, while he tried to catch his breath. Taking the animal trails, Clint took him deeper into the forest. It was becoming dark now, he had to allow the Suit to rest or he was going to collapse, so he finally let him settle in a dip in the ground that hid him from the trail. Clint gave a contented yip, when the man did what he wanted , which died away as he realized the Suit’s condition, he was pale, shaky and in pain, he needed, rest, food, more importantly water and a first aid kit.

Once he was sure the man wasn’t going to go anywhere, he nuzzled his hand, and pushed up close, so that the Suit could pet him, settling close against him, protectively. The weight of the Suit’s hand was just perfect as he carded through the fur, with just the right combination of strength and curved fingers to root right down through the thick fur and scratch him, this man knew how to pet a dog. Clint’s tongue lolled out in appreciation, and he risked a swipe of his tongue across the man’s skin, and wow that was something special, as taste and scent came together for the first time. 

Finally the man’s hand stopped moving, and Clint looked up into his face, his eyes were closed. Carefully, he eased back, and padded off down the trail heading back to where the SHIELD agents were. The Suit had tried his cell a couple of times, it was a state of the art military model, or so the man had told him not embarrassed that he was talking to what looked like a dog. The Suit’s voice was something that Clint decided he could listen too even if he reciting the phone directory, he found it soothing. He had had to stop from wiggling in contentment when that voice was directed to him in that tone. 

He padded away from the injured man; Clint’s mind became dark as he thought of what those others people might do to his Alpha if they caught him, they could kill him or torture him for information. Slowly he let the werewolf bleed out through him with each step he took. By the time he had closed on the SHIELD agents, he had morphed from wolf to werewolf, the true apex predator. Hiding in the shadows he listened to them, as they planned what they would do once more personnel, lights and more search dogs arrived. So it meant that others of their kind were on their way, the Suit was important enough to them for them to take the forest apart to find him, his heart swelled as he realized that they were respectful of the Suit’s abilities, hell they were frightened of him. 

Now in the darkness he would give them something else to be frightened of, already the search dogs were becoming agitated, smelling his scent they knew what he was and feared him. When he attacked it was with blurring speed, leaving blood and screaming agents behind him, again and again he tore into them, before finally turning his back on the survivors, letting them look after their wounded; he had more important things to do. Cradled in one bloody clawed paw he carried a bottle of water, the Suit would need it and a SHIELD field medic kit, looped round the other arm.  
Quick he made his way back to the Suit, powering through the forest in large leaps and bounds, only slowing when he neared were he had left the injured man. 

The Suit was awake, gun in hand, he must have heard him approaching, so Clint tried to make himself as none threatening as a six foot eight werewolf could. Approaching the wounded man he bent and dropped the water and first aid kit near him and pulled back, and settled on his haunches, head cocked to one side. When the Suit reached for the water, Clint couldn’t help making a contented rumble deep in his chest, pleased to see him take a drink, but his respect for his alpha increased as he saw the way he had checked the seal of the bottle first. The Suit turned the water bottle over in his good hand, and raised an eyebrow as he saw the SHIELD logo on it. 

“Have you decided to trust me enough to show your skin suit yet? I would like to see your human form?” he asked, his voice raspy, as he took a drink. “No…. that’s ok, that was a good dog impression, loved the wagging tail and the drooling.” He looked at him “What are you feral?” He gave a shake of the head as he answered his own question, “no you would have kept well away from me, or gutted me like you did Sid.”   
He took another sip of the water, and offered the bottle to him. Clint pulled back on himself and revered to his wolf form, the Suit smiled as if he had just done something very clever, and poured some water into his hand and offered it to him. Clint closed the distance and carefully drunk from his hand, indulging in a couple of licks across the man’s palm, he tasted gunpowder residue on his skin, sweat, and his scent, water had never tasted so good. When he had finished the Suit scratched him behind the ear, and he felt himself leaning into the man’s hand. But the smell of blood the suit’s blood was too strong for him to be able to relax and really savour this contact. Reluctantly he pulled away and returned carrying the medical kit by its strap and dropped into the man’s lap. 

He watched as the Suit managed to slide out of the left sleeve of his jacket, pain etching his face at the effort, he stopped to catch his breath and then opened the kit and pulled out some thick pads. 

“The bullet’s still in there, but at least it’s stopped bleeding, otherwise I wouldn’t have got as far.” He padded the wound, and then used a syringe to inject himself with a strong broad based antibiotic, and then debated the painkillers. Finally he pocked one syringe of morphine and then swallowed some pills from a bottle, washing it down with the water. 

Clint had found it hard to refuse his Alpha when he had asked him to change into his skin form; it had felt so wrong to disobey him, when all he wanted to do was please him. But he knew he had to protect his identity because of Barney, his brother wouldn’t like it if he knew an agent of Hydra had seen his face. Gently he pressed a paw to the Suit’s chest so that he eased back down, and then just as carefully laid down covering him, making sure not to put any weight on his injured shoulder, trying to keep him warmth, through the night. 

It was dawn when Clint woke, with a yawn, eyes still closed buried his face into the pillow and inhaled with a satisfied sigh, and he was suddenly wide awake, as several things hit him. One it wasn’t a pillow it was the Suit’s shoulder and his face had been pressed to the man’s throat, and two…. Fuck he was naked and all too human, and three the Suit had his arm wrapped round his waist with a hand resting on his ass and four he had been rutting against the Suit’s thigh. Quickly, Clint eased himself back off the injured man taking the weight on his hands as he rolled clear. The Suit stirred in his sleep, and gave a shiver, as he registered the loss of the warm body pressed against him, but not enough to wake him in his weakened state. 

Clint changed back into this wolf form and moved forward to nudge the Suit awake. He had seen the man fight he was all speed and deadly lethal grace, but now he was moving sluggishly, his pale skin was pricked with fever bloom, it told him how badly off he was. He had to get him out of here, or it wouldn’t matter if SHEILD caught him, he would die of infection. Just then the cell phone rang, and the Suit groped for it, nearly dropping it as he got it out of his pocket, “Surgeon.” The Suit listened, and then put the cell phone down next to him in the dirt, as he dragged his jacket a little closer round him, as he shivered, his teeth chattering. 

“Looks like they finally came through for me, Wolfe, a helicopter evac.” He treated Clint with a smile. “Now I just have to get there?” he paused “Baker Farm road, I don’t suppose you know it.”

Clint yipped, he knew the farm, they had used the field there one season for the circus, and it was about the only clearing that could take any evacuation by air. He stretched, and did a play bow, bouncing on his paws. 

“I take that as a yes.” The Suit said, wryly. 

Before they start out, the Suit carefully checked the wound; Clint sniffed and growled as he detected some corruption in it, hopefully the antibiotic would kick in before it got too bad. He saw the way the man pressed clean padding to the wound, on top of the old not wanting to risk starting it bleeding again, but he knew in his heart the damage had already been done. The man took another sip of the water, poured a handful and offered it to Clint, who drank from his hand, and then he pushed the bottle into his jacket pocket and dragged himself to his feet. “Think we can make it in three hours Wolfe.” 

Clint gave a soft woof, and then led the way, they had to stop and the suit took another drink, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, he offered the water to Clint, but he refused and shook his head the Suit needed it more. The next time they stopped the Suit again offered the water to Clint, and this time when he refused he drained the last of it, and let the bottle fall.   
“Don’t want my friends,” there was a sneer as he said the word “to get the wrong idea Wolfe if they see the SHIELD logo,” He paused, “I don’t know your name, but I think after all this I can give you mine. My name’s Phil Coulson, the Surgeon.” 

Clint knew the code name, who didn’t the man was a fucking legend, in the world of murder for hire. He had dropped off the list of freelance contract killers a couple of years ago; rumour was that he was exclusive now. Seems that the Surgeon had gone over to Hydra. Clint was all too aware how the Surgeon had honoured him by giving him his name. He nuzzled Coulson’s hand as a thank you.

Padded along by his side Clint could see that Coulson was struggling more and more, his breathing was getting harder, and with a soft cry he crumbled to the ground, he tried to push himself up only to fall back down, this time he wasn’t moving. 

The change came to Clint without him even having to think about it, naked in human form, he checked Coulson’s pulse, it was thin and reedy, and he shook his head no this wasn’t going to finish like this. Taking a deep breath Clint brought the werewolf out again, he felt exhausted to the bone, this was the most he had changed in 24 hours. 

Bending he picked Coulson up, the man hung limply in his arms, as claws hands curled protectively round him. Now in his were form Clint was unstoppable, bounding through the forest, his precious cargo held close against him. As he got closer to Baker Farm road, he slowed using all his senses to check the area out, with Coulson in his arms he couldn’t afford to walk into an ambush. Finally content that it wasn’t a trap he laid him down, and settled by his side, reaching out with one clawed hand to lightly pet his head, and then leaning forward to take in his scent in his werewolf form, nuzzling his throat and after a guilty glance round, licked his jaw, affectionately. 

It was then he heard a helicopter in the distance, Clint hesitated he could best protect Coulson in werewolf form, but the people would be scared and would run rather than help his Alpha. So he changed back into his wolf form, easy to mistake for a large dog, and caught hold of the inured man’s jacket and shirt collar as the cell rang, and began to drag him out into the open. The cell kept ringing, and the helicopter stopped it’s decent, hovering in place. Quickly he began to lick at Coulson’s face, trying to wake him up. The man batted at him, with his good hand and then the cells ringing had him groping clumsily for the phone in his pocket. “Surge…eon, Alphaaa Mmmike LLLLima 894……867 down….down, pick up nnnow,” his voice was badly slurred then he had lapsed into unconsciousness again. 

When the helicopter landed two men spilled out, guns in hand while a third kept guard with a machinegun. Clint watched them carefully ready to turn werewolf if they threatened his Alpha. They carried Coulson into the helicopter, it was just lifting off when black SUV’s swept in, peppering the area with machinegun fire, some of it coming close to hitting Clint. 

The helicopter took off as if it was an express elevator, banking sharply away, it was then he saw the rocket launcher, that one of the men in the SUV was bringing to bear on it. It wasn’t with any conscious thought that Clint ran at them, half way between him and his prey he changed into his werewolf form, when he hit them no one escaped the carnage. As the last one died Clint turned his head to watch the helicopter in the distance and threw back his head and howled, his Alpha, had escaped, he would find him, and take his place at his side. 

By the time that the SHIELD back up arrived all they found was cooling corpses, the agent in charge, accepted a radio from one of the field agents. Looking round he shook his head he knew what had done this, “Control notifies the Project, and we have a candidate for them.”


	4. The Surgeon: Agent of SHIELD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wounded Phil Coulson is recruited into SHIELD, and finds the worth of his new handler

Three months later  
Frank came out of his office, the alarms where ringing and the facility were going into shut down. Someone had got into it and had taken out three high ranking prisoners. It was only by chance that he saw the Surgeon in a throng of SHIELD personal heading for a safety area for non-combat agents.  
He followed close on the Surgeon’s heels, waiting until the man was near to his getaway car, when he yelled at him to freeze. The Surgeon, spun round gun in hand, drawing a bead on him, before either of them could fire. There was a loud report of a gunshot, the Surgeon staggered forward a step and then collapse. His gun flew from his hand as he hit the floor, even as the car pulled away in a squeal of brakes, a gunman hanging out of the widow. 

Frank stood over him, watching as the Surgeon struggled to breathe as blood frothed at his lips. Tapping his earwig communication device Frank said “Medical alert agent down I repeat agent down.” Bending down by his side Frank tried to help the Surgeon breath as he pressed a hand on the sucking chest wound and waited for an emergency team to get there. 

0-0-0-0-0-0

 

For catching the Surgeon, Frank was promoted to level 7, and given Phil Coulson as his asset. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, to win Coulson’s trust but made sure he was there when the former Hydra agent came round from the emergency surgery, and was resting in ICU. He was all too aware that he had to make some progress with Coulson, to keep Palmer satisfied, since it was on the Director’s personal order that he had recruited him. 

 

Ten days after he came out of ICU, Frank arrived to find the Agent guarding Coulson’s door missing, and a nurse making up an empty bed. She looked up as he demanded, “the patient, Coulson where is he?”

 

“Dr. Mason and a security escort had the patient taken down to Department 8 Sir.” 

 

Frank swore under his breath, he had hoped for more time with his new asset, before they started the interrogation phase of his induction into SHIELD, but it looked like they had run out of time. 

 

Psych Department 8

It was now four weeks since Coulson had been taken away in a wheelchair by the orderlies from Psych D8, and Frank was all too aware it wasn’t just Coulson’s mental state they would be investigating, they would also subject him to an in-depth interrogation.

Frank suppressed a shudder as he entered Department 8; he was met and walked through the formal looking offices, with their pretty and pert secretaries and their relaxing therapy rooms by Dr. Mason. That was the public face of Department 8. Now he was being taken down to the lower levels, the levels that no one ever went to except in handcuffs and at gunpoint. 

Dr. Mason looked every inch the friendly family GP, and oozed a reassurance that far from relaxing put Frank more on edge. The room he was taken too had a full length two way mirror taking up one side, it gave an unlimited view into the room next door. That room was white and clinical, in its center was an examination table, it was cut out to take a human figure, as if the patient was star jumping with their arms and legs open. Along the walls was an assortment of medical equipment, which Frank had no idea what they did, and found he didn’t want to know. 

Dr Mason looked keenly at him. “You will find this very educational Agent Kent, Coulson is a very interesting individual, he has managed to retain his self-core longer that I thought possible” He added almost wistfully “it’s a pity we don’t get to keep him longer, but Director Palmer was insisted that he’s needed in the field.”

Just then the door opened and Coulson was all but dragged into the room, he was naked except for a large adhesive pad covering his chest wound, his skin was grey and grimy as if he hadn’t bathed, there was a couple of weeks stubble on his face, dark shadows under his eyes. Coulson was manhandled onto the table by the orderlies; Frank saw the heavy bruising on his wrists and ankles, before they were in cased in thick padded leather cuffs, along with further bruising to his jaw and down his arms. 

“What the hell are you doing to him?” Frank demanded.

“Easy, Agent Kent, we had to take rather drastic action with him, because he killed one of my junior doctors. Dr. Vine was a good man but he completely under estimated the patient’s reaction to the M87HQI drug. Mason held up a hand to stop Frank before he could speak.

“Coulson was restrained and the drug was administered, he appeared to go under, and the session progressed well, the prisoner…. Err ... patient was very docile, so Dr. Vine ordered the guard out of the room. Coulson killed him with the paperclip from the file, and then used the metal strip in the binder to get out of the room, and killed two guards before he was brought down.”

“My god, what the hell were you thinking of.” 

“I am being honest here Agent Kent we had no idea that the drug would inflame his more homicide tendencies. He had been so even tempered we.” He paused.

“You underestimated him.” Frank added, shaking his head ruefully.

“Director Palmer was quite understanding about the incident. From then on we removed everything from his room, except for a mattress, restricted and accounted for any items our medical staff was carrying. We even had to remove his bandage and replace it with an adhesive pad to prevent him using that as a garrote.”

“A garrote, seriously you thought he would use his bandage as a garrote.” Frank said.

Dr. Mason looked at his coolly, “Tell that to Dr. Robertson, he’s still off work with trauma to his vocal cords. For that reason we now keep him naked, and subject him to regular cavity searches.” 

The doctor’s grim expression changed to one of contemplation, “once he’s an asset you might want to speak to Goodwin, about having him assist with the unorthodox weapon lectures. He certainly has a unique way of looking at things.” He waved Frank to one of the comfortable chairs. 

The doctors and technicians entered the room and began to swarm round Coulson. Dr Mason, leaned forward in his chair, “ as you can see they are attaching different sensors to his body, note that they are they talked over him as if he was nothing more than another lab rat for them, or so it seems. In reality Frank,” he paused “I can call you Frank? When in reality it is part of the strategies we employ with our patients, it isolates them from the people standing over them. They will now prep him for the session.” 

One of the nurses, a younger, stocky build man, moved into place between the spread V of Coulson’s legs blocking their view of what he was doing, but it was clear even to Frank that he was reaching up between them. From where he as sitting Frank saw Coulson start to breath harder, and move his head from side to side as he tried to pull against the restrains, then he gave a gutted cry of pain, as he tried to avoid the nurses touch, but he was held too tightly. When the nurse had finally finished he moved back, and Frank could see he had attached sensors to Coulson’s genitals. The nurse then systematically checked on all the other sensors the others had been attaching, before confirming them with the doctor in charge.

A large machine was being rolled into place at the head of the table. “Dr Bowyer is now going to have the support staff, immobilizing Coulson’s neck and head; once this is done they will enclose the machine round his head.” Once the helmet like machine was in place, a visor was pulled down to cover the patient’s eyes. 

Dr. Mason continued “We’ve already gave him a mild sedative, before he was brought in, Dr Turner and his team is now connecting the intravenous lines, this will allow the them to give him ITV93B it’s a hallucinogenic, when coupled with the BM7895 gives spectacular results. 

 

A tall slender female doctor, looked towards them, Dr. Mason pressed the intercom, “Please precede Dr. Turner.” Turner’s hands moved over the control panel, for several minutes nothing seemed to be happening, and then Coulson screamed. His body began to press up against the restrains, and then fell back down, he was breathing hard and his muscles were twitching. 

“What the hell are they doing to him,” Frank demanded “because this looked like electro shock to me?” 

Dr Mason sniffed “Electro Shock, Agent Kent we are not barbarians. We tried him with different truth serum, and nothing worked completely, he was too well trained, and I believe Hydra somehow made him immune to some extent to the drugs we use. We need to, make sure there are no nasty surprised waiting for us in the future if he becomes as Agent of SHIELD.” Dr. Mason paused, “Frank I know that you are sure that Coulson would have come in of his own freewill eventually, and that his betrayal by Hydra just shortened the process. But with certain mental abnormalities and training which Hydra are experts at he could pass a lie detector test even our most sophisticated one, this process can’t be beaten. The BM7895 will detect any programming no matter how deeply it is implanted. If Coulson has any implanted program we will find it. This is what we consider are last resort. If he passes this Frank,” Mason said ruefully, “he and a small number of others are perhaps the only people in SHIELD that you can guarantee would never betray us to HYDRA. Unfortunately the patient does have to be conscious for us to calibrate the machine; we can only use a light sedative in his case to try and make him easier to deal with. Now we are about to start, you will find this interesting.”

“That was just to calibrate the machine.” Frank said in disbelief.

 

“Of course, it would be dangerous for the patient if it wasn’t. Whatever you think we do not want to cause unnecessary damage to a valuable asset.

It was then that Coulson screamed again, and then changed into heavy panting as he tried to ride the pain, his body tenses against the restraints, then he slumped back down again onto the table, only to arch up again, as the process was repeated, as he was questioned by the doctors, as they huddled over the control panel. 

Frank’s nails dug into the chair arms as he watched Coulson being tortured, because there was no other word for it. How long he watched he didn’t know, but soon Coulson’s body was bathed in sweat and urine was dripping off the table as his bladder emptied as the shocks wracked his body ringing involuntary responses from him. This seemed to be what the doctors were waiting for, as they began to work his body through different clusters of sensors, as he refused to tell them what they wanted. Some were small responses, Frank saw the muscles jumping in Coulson’s arms, thighs and belly, as they tense, and only to have it repeated with a much larger jolt minutes later. 

“At this rate you’re going to kill him with a heart attack, he…” 

Mason cut Frank off, “he’s not actually being shocked Agent, remember that.” Mason said proudly “that’s the beauty of the machine, it’s all done through his brain, and his body is doing it to itself.” The doctor reached over and switched on a second monitor, “Since you are concerned about him, let me reassure you it’s all in his mind, the machine is causing his brain to fill in the gaps, when his body is stimulated by the sensors, this is the feed that the doctors are projecting into his mind.” He paused “the virtual imaging is excellent; we used Stark Media technology to get it so realistic.”

It took a moment for Frank to take in what he was looking at on the screen, it was from Coulson point of view, he was chained in a chair, naked in a filthy basement, cables ran from a car battery and were attached to his head, and body, an interrogator stood in front of him, and questioned him. When he refused to answer, he was shocked by the interrogator completing the circuit on the car battery. 

“That Frank is the BM7895 at work; it takes what he has experienced before and amplifies it, turning that experience against him. Coulson is living it virtue of the addition of a strong hallucinogenic to the BM7895, which allows him to accept the illusion as real. So he’s not actually being shocked, it’s his brain doing it to him, making his body respond to the imagined shocks. As I said before we are not monsters Frank.” 

At that moment the picture on the monitor went fuzzy, and Dr. Mason reached over and switched it off. Just then Coulson began to buck and writhing in the restraints as if trying to free himself of some weight, he was begging them, and then he suddenly screamed and screamed until he didn’t have any breath left in his lungs, and his voice was shredded, sweat was running down his body, and he was saying something over and over again. 

“What the hell.” Frank, ignored Mason’s attempt to stop him and he switched the monitor on again with a sinking feeling, and the color drained from his face at what he was looking at, if he thought the first images were bad enough, these were worse. Now he knew that the doctor had been doing to Coulson when he had been placing the seniors between his legs, and it sickened him.” 

“Switch it off now Mason; switch the fucking machine off now.” 

“You can’t afford to be squeamish Frank, Coulson will not break and unless he breaks how we can mold him, I’ve seen men devastated when we have used this on them. This resistance means that we have to use the most extreme means possible with him. Very few people have to experience this, level of the BM7895. “ 

At that moment Coulson’s body bucked and he came hard , seamen splashing across his stomach and chest, blood was starting to run down his feet and hands as he fought the restraints that was it; Frank was already half way out of the door before he had even realized it.  
.   
Doctor Mason sounded almost bored as he blocked his way. “Agent Kent,” the doctor addressed Frank formally as if that would make a difference, “he is a prisoner of SHIELD, call him a Probationary Agent all you want, but he is a prisoner of SHIELD. Once he entered Psych 8, he had no nationality, no rights, until he walks out of here again, either as an asset or gets dragged out of here to the fridge.” 

Frank glanced back at the monitor face like thunder, “Fuck this,” and he pushed past the Doctor his time for listening was over, as he wrenched the door open he snapped back. “He’s an agent of SHIELD, this ends now” then he was out of the reviewing room and slamming through the medical integration room door. The first orderly tried to stop him, and Frank put him down hard, the second one he didn’t even break step as he knocked him out.

He grabbed the doctor nearest him, Dr. Bowyer and snapped “switch that machine off, now, and get that contraption off his head.” Before he could reach for his gun to press the point, Dr Mason’s voice came over the intercom ordering them to terminate the session. 

The doctor quickly began to power the machine down, as the support team, spurred into action and removed the machine freeing Coulson from it. Frank began to undo the arm and wrist restrains, all the time speaking to his asset, Coulson was high on the drugs they gave him, but Frank was pleased that he seemed to latch onto his voice, and take some comfort from it. He was caught off guard when Coulson suddenly yanked him down on top of him by this tie, as with the other hand he clawed at his suit.

 

It was then Frank found himself looking down the barrel of his own gun as it was pressed to the side of his head. Making himself keep calm, he looked past the gun and into the face of the Surgeon, eyes blown wide with the drugs and only a faint grip on reality. It was then he knew that he might not get out of the room alive, killed at the hands of his own asset.

Alarms shrieking in the background, Frank knew that once the first response team came crashing through the door, they would both die. “I am going to get you out of here Phil, remember me it’s Frank. I am your partner; I am going to look after you. I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I came for you. You’re leaving his place with me now. But you have to give me the gun.” 

“You came for me.” The Surgeon’s voice had a singsong quality to it, as he repeated the words. 

“Sure I did, you’re my partner.” 

“Can I kill him?” Coulson rolled his head slightly so that he could see Dr Bowyer.

“Sure if you want.” Frank said levelly, seeing the doctor blanch.

Coulson made a dismissive snort, “Tired, hurt, dizzy, maybe later, use a knife, on him, carve him up” there was almost a childish quality now to his words.

“Yeah, you can kill him later,” Frank reassured him. The laugh Phil gave was wrong on so many levels; Frank carefully wrapped one arm round his waist to support him against him, his hand splayed across Coulson’s back, as with his other he reached for Coulson’s gun hand. 

“Come on Phil give me the gun, and you can hold onto me, make the dizziness go away.” 

The Surgeon, seemed to debate it, then laid the gun down, and his arms curled round Frank as he buried his face against his neck, his whole body shuddering. Frank brought his other arm round his partner holding him closer, talking softly to him. He felt Coulson move against him, and just increased his grip enough to anchor him without making it too constrictive. 

Looking at the IV in his arm, Frank said “Dr. Bowyer, I need you to remove this now.” 

Bowyer edge out slowly, trying to make himself as unthreading as possible. Coulson turned his head from where it rested contently on Frank’s shoulder, he suddenly raised an empty hand and said “bang”, making the doctor jump, and laughed at the reaction it caused. Before turning back and burying his face against Frank’s neck again. 

When security came in hard and fast, Frank tightened his arms round Coulson, turning slightly to shield him, “He’s my partner back off.” 

Just then the cell phone in his pocket began to ring, Frank pulled it out one handed and then listened for moment his eyes going wider, he pressed speaker and held the phone out. “This is Director Palmer; Agent Kent had permission to take his asset from Department 8, to the Secure Residential Block on level 3.”

“Sir.” Commander Swan, SHIELD response team leader tried to object, only for Palmer to tell him to stand down in no uncertain terms and it wasn’t a suggestion. 

Frank looked across at the doctors and nurses, “I need him free of the sensors, and restraints, and I need it now.” 

The doctors and nurses worked quickly, with only one hesitation, Frank exhaled slowly, when he knew which sensor was left “only when I tell you.” He buried his face against Phil, talking softly, it was only when he got a nod of the head, did Frank say. “You can removed the internal sensor, but take it easy okay.” 

The nurse nodded, Phil’s breath caught, and he jerked in Frank’s grip, but he held on, and Phil’s body slowly relaxed against him again, as his panting breath slowed back to normal.

Getting Phil dressed in a set of scrubs wasn’t easy as the man didn’t want to give up his grip on him, which meant that he ended up more close and personal with Coulson’s naked body than he wanted, but he shrugged it was already too late to worry about that. Drugged to the gills Phil had more hands than an octopus, and someone as lethal as Phil Coulson shouldn’t be giggling like that as Frank finally led him away. 

0-0-0-0-0-0

Dr. Mason was seated in front of his computer monitor, as he conference called with Director Palmer some time later; the Director’s smile sent a shiver of fear down his spine. 

“It work as you predicted Dr. Mason, Agent Kent is fundamentally a good man he couldn’t stand by and watch Coulson being tortured.”

“Sir, Coulson has already killed one of my doctors, when he grabbed that gun he could have killed more.” 

“Collateral damage, Dr. Mason, if you’re correct, and I am sure you are.” His tone dropped slightly on the last couple of words, was ominous. “Our handler and asset should start bonding together; I want them up and running in two months. Make sure that happens” Palmer terminated the video conference much to Mason’s relief

0-0-0-0-0-0

Secure Residential Facility

Room 167

Frank sat Phil down on the bed, and somehow managed to extradite himself from his grip, which was only allowed once he promised to come back straight away. The room’s bathroom was small, but boasted a bath, he left the water running, checked on Phil and went back, the temperature was just right, and he switched the taps off. 

Phil was laid back on the bed, one hand waving in front of his face as he chuckled at something only he could see. Reaching out Frank hauled him to a sitting position, and began to strip the scrub top off. Only to find that Phil was intent, on trying to unbutton his dress shirt, biting his lip as he concentrated on pushing the buttons through the holes. 

“You know you’re going to be mortally embarrassed once you come down off this ride you’re on.” Franks said gently, as he managed to pry Phil’s fingers off his shirt, only to have them tugging at his jacket. It was hard work but he finally got Phil undressed, at only the loss of his own jacket, his dress shirt open to the waist. He had had to stop himself from reacting when Phil had gone for the tie, remembering all too clearly how one of the Surgeon’s preferred method of killing was garroting people and he had a readymade garrote in his hands. But the tie was thrown away, as soon as Phil had it free, and was now contently burying his face in the expanse of warm skin he had found. 

Finally, he got Phil naked and on his feet and into the bath as he soaped away the urine, cum and sweat that stuck to his partner’s body, at the same time washing the terror of the machine along with it. He wrapped Phil in a couple of towels, and helped him back into the bedroom and onto the bed, ending up dragged after him as Phil’s iron like grip pulled him down. Then rolled him over pinning him down, with a leg thrown over his thigh, and a forearm across his throat and Frank found himself looking up into Phil’s face. 

He didn’t make any attempt to break the hold; he just wrapped one arm round Phil’s waist, and rested the other hand on his hip, lightly rubbing it. It was then Phil yawned wide and moves his forearm from where it had been across Frank’s throat and snuggled down on top of him, trapping him in place. Phil had just crashed and burned, and all Frank could do was holding him and make him feel safe, when he was sure that Phil was sleeping soundly did Frank carefully roll him onto the bed. When Phil started to move in his sleep, Frank put a hand lightly on his stomach and slowly rubbed in a circle, just like he had done with his girls when they were younger and got fretful. Surprisingly it had the same result and Phil settled back down again with a soft sigh. 

Reaching down to the bottom of the bed Frank pulled the blankets up over the sleeping man, when he started to get up, Phil started to make aggravated sound in his sleep, so Frank signed, and then laid back down by his side and pulled him close again. Phillip J Coulson was his asset now, his partner, and he would protect him from anyone or anything, even if that meant protecting him from his own nightmares. He knew some handlers saw their assets just as that, a human weapon or piece of espionage equipment, he saw Phil as different, and he saw him as his partner and in the field that was going to make all the difference. 

 

0-0-0-0-0-0

Five months later

Frank found working with his new partner a trial from the word go. Coulson pushed the boundaries, but in very subtle ways. If he went at them like a bull in a china shop somehow it would have been easier to control him but Coulson had taken the time and trouble to actually read SHIELD’s handbook, something few people did outside of the sections that applied to them.

He was methodical with his paperwork, and more than one trainer had been seen to scratch his head and curse in disbelief as Coulson learned to navigate his way round the autocracy of the SHIELD to his advantage. But what Frank found more interesting was that the Junior Agents started to gather round Coulson, slowly getting over their fear of him. First it had been, Jim Donaldson, he had then then brought Jenny Swan into the group followed by Ronald Essex and boyishly charming John Garrett, and for the first time his asset had a core of people that were prepared to watch his back for him. Friends that would actually go to his help, when he was jumped by a group of field agents because of who he was and what he had been. The agents got the message Phil Coulson wasn’t on his own, and there was people that would back him.

Phil moved through the training easily, so Frank began to cherry picked his training using the exempt clause. If a junior agent had a skill and could prove to the trainer that he or she was up to standard they could get exempted from that course.

So far Coulson had been exempt from sniper qualification, gun qualification, unarmed combat, unconventional weapon training, in fact Senior Agent Goodwin was talking about having Coulson do a joint training session with him. Interrogation resistance was a given as read given his showing with Psych 8.

It was no surprise that Coulson was operational before any of the others in his class, their first few missions together as handler and asset where walk thoughts the sort they gave to a green handler and agent combination. Simple assassinations, well defined bad guys, to make the use of deadly force morally acceptable and to build up a tolerance to killing. Frank had shaken his head and told Sub Director Richardson, “Sir with all respect, we are dealing with the Surgeon, I don’t think that killing is going to be a problem.” 

“Of course not, I am more interested in if he’s going to kill you. Give him full rein and choice of weapon, and let’s see what he does.” 

0-0-0-0-0-0

Paris

Frank sat in the van, “Okay Surgeon do you have the target.” That was the one thing that Coulson was immovable on, he wouldn’t change his call sign.

“One on one, control.” Frank touched his headphone, and frowned at Phil’s reply. 

“Sir are you alright, Tech Swan asked.

“Fine,” but he wasn’t he had heard the timber in Coulson’s voice change there had been a warmth to it, that hadn’t been there before.   
The next transmission was a simple “target down,” again Frank heard the same note in his voice. Taking the headphone off Frank said “Agent Donaldson pick up Coulson now.” Five minutes later the side door slide open and Coulson boarded, taking a seat and stripping off his black gloves, other thing that he refused to change. 

Watching the Surgeon work had re-enforced what he had suspected, the former Hydra assassin had made understatement almost an art form, he could melted into the background easily it was scary, and for such a cold blooded killer , he could when he wanted radiate such an unthreatening air, that it made it easy to overlook how dangerous he actually was. 

.  
Although he hadn’t put a foot wrong, Frank was still expected to monitor his asset closely, when Coulson left the SHIELD base alone he was shadowed, and listened in on, as they waited for him to report to Hydra it never came. It was then decided to have Dr King and her associate Michael Williams to take a closer look at him. Director Palmer wanted to know if there was any traits that could be used to control Coulson beyond just the normal, the dirtier the blackmail material they had on him the happier Palmer would be. 

Frank wasn’t happy about it, but orders were orders, so he sat down opposite Dr Anita King she was a tall willowy woman that would give any of the supermodels a run for their money. She was beauty with brains, a shrink employed to seduce and bed targets, to gain an insight into their metal state. After all as she had once said to him in that cut glass British accent of hers, no one expects to by analysed by the person their fucking. Agent Williams was handsome, but in a boyish way that appealed to men and women, he had formally been a high classed male escort, until he had been recruited into SHIELD. His insight and skills had become a perfect foil for Dr. King. 

 

“I’ve read your report Dr. King, what can you tell me.”

 

Anita King settled herself back in her chair, she knew what Agent Kent wanted, he had read the report, and watched the video feed, now he wanted her findings in person. 

 

“Because SHIELD had no information on his sexual orientation, and Agent Coulson has always been very self-controlled on how he presents himself, I was the first to approach him. I observe him for two days, he has very good social skills, polite, but not interested when I attempted to pick him up.” She indicated her colleague, “So I baited the honey trap with Michael. Agent Williams?”

 

Michael Williams nodded “We discussed the situation and the possibility that your agent wasn’t interested in women, so I let him see me at the bar, and made no attempt to pick him up to begin with, slowly I made inroads into his personal space. Until finally he was ready to acknowledge me.”

 

Kent, eye brows went up slightly at that, he hadn’t suspected that Coulson was gay, but he didn’t comment instead he asked. “And as to his mental state?”

 

“As Dr King said he is very adept at social behaviour, he’s polite and charming, but he is very much a loner, as a lover he’s strong, knows what he wants, but it’s vanilla, there are no sexual kinks, he’s not sadistic or violent in his lovemaking. But…... 

 

“But what?” Frank asked.

 

“But he is hiding something, he is very controlled and contained, even when he was fucking me, there was a part of him that was still distant, he wanted me to enjoy what we were doing, and went out of his way to pleasure me.” He paused, “He didn’t trust me enough to sleep in the same bed with me, and left soon after we had had sex. There’s nothing in his profile that would be open for blackmail.

 

“What if I told him that he had killed over 178 contract killings to his name and that he was the Surgeon?”

 

Dr. King put a hand out on Michael’s arm to stop him reacting, “Then I would be surprised that he was as open as he was Michael, and respectfully Sir be pissed of that you didn’t tell us who we were dealing with. I have had to deal with the carnage that he had brought to SHIELD, when he’s murdered our agents. There was a reason he was number 5 on our kill list.” 

 

“Is he a sociopath?

 

“No, he mimics a lot of the signature signs, closely, but no. His mental stability is walking a very narrow tightrope, and personally I wouldn’t want to be there when he loses his balance.” 

 

“How do I keep him balanced?”

 

“Simple, Agent Kent,” Dr. King said, “You give him what he needs. A black suit, gloves and a victim, if I remember my brief on him correctly.”


	5. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Handler Gates takes over Agent Coulson's mission, there is the possibility that only one of them might come back.

Agent David Gates anger hadn’t abated concerning his former asset stellar rise up the ranks at his expense, to his horror he had seen Kent and Coulson started to create a reputation that was swiftly making them the top ranking handler and asset partnership in SHIELD.

 

It was the following December ,that Frank Kent had been rushed to hospital with a bullet wound to the shoulder and Gates had been given Coulson as his asset for a series of missions, to say there was no love lost between them was an understatement. But from the way Coulson worked you wouldn’t have known that. The first mission together had been a straight forward assassination which Coulson had pulled off effortlessly, walking straight into the building with a briefcase in his hand and a copy of the morning newspaper tucked under his arm, leaving 20 minutes later the only trace of his presence a cooling body in the 5th floor toilets. 

 

But if Gates had been honest he would have admitted that there was something about Coulson that creeped him out.  
Even after they had several missions under their belt together, he wasn’t happy being around him.

 

David Gates was eating one of the worse meals of his life in SHIELD’s staff canteen, belatedly remembering there was a reason people hated meatloaf Wednesday. When Agent Johnson pulled a seat out and sat down opposite him, he knew Johnson by reputation, the man was on a fast track, and it was rumoured that he would be Sub-Director one day if Kent didn’t get there first, and Richardson did the decent thing and retired. 

 

Johnson wasn’t known for being friendly but at that meal the man was Mr. Charming himself. So he had ended up spending the whole meal waiting for the other shoe drop. Finally when he was cleaning up his plate the other Agent had leaned into him, his voice low and intense. “Watch your back, Kent has set you up to fail on this mission.” 

 

“I don’t have one assigned.”

 

“You will do Davy, this one’s personal for Palmer, and you fuck it up and he’s going to have your asset put you down. Because if he don’t then you’re going to disappear the moment you return to base, there’s a no failure option on this one”

 

“My asset? Agent Hudson would never do that.” That was as far as he got, because he noticed that Johnson was now looking towards the door, as Phil Coulson walked in, and seemed engrossed in picking the most eatable of the sandwiches from the chiller. “Who said it would be Hudson,” Johnson said smugly. 

 

Twenty four hours later David Gates had found himself flying out on a SHIELD Blackhawk with Coulson strapped in opposite him, the man looked to be asleep, his coat collar pulled up round his throat, a knitted cap on his head pulled down over his ears, arms folded, black gloved hands tucked under his armpits for warmth, and equipment bag at his feet. Of course the bastard could sleep; it wasn’t his neck on the chopping block, as handler it all landed on his shoulders. Director Palmer had personally outlined the ramification of failure to him; Coulson would only suffer if he failed to execute him, when ordered to do so by Palmer. 

 

They had flown into Chicago during the blizzard of the century, only a SHIELD helicopter could fly in those conditions due to the extensive modification done to it by Stark Industry, but even so it was a rough flight. The blizzard had caused a blackout, and at 3.00 in the morning the city was deserted, many of the roads blocked by snow, and it were pitch black. He hadn’t wasted time he had ordered Coulson to terminate the target, regardless of the conflicting Intel he was receiving. But David knew now it had been the wrong call, he hadn’t listened to his asset. In fact he had over rode Coulson at every turn and now he had screwed the pooch on the mission; he hadn’t needed Kent to do that for him, he had done it himself. Failure of the mission was all on his shoulders, the only way he could survive it was if Coulson was dead, therefore he could be blamed for the failure. So he had watched the inferred figures of the Hydra guards descending on Coulson’s position and done nothing about it. He had listened as Coulson had calmly relayed the situation over the com to him as it had all gone to hell, hearing the machine gun fire in the background, then a large explosion and a grunt of pain, as Coulson was hit. So he had abandoning his asset leaving him to face a Hydra security attack team wounded and on his own. 

 

David moved to the evac point, convinced that he could survive Palmer since he had a nice dead scapegoat in Coulson; he was just reaching for the key to start the car, when he heard Coulson’s voice on the com calling in. David’s hand dropped away from the key he would have to take care of Coulson personally. 

 

It has been easy to make contact with him over the com once he had boosted the signal and instructed him to meet at the extraction point the car on Fourth and Simpson. He had sighted heavy Hydra activity to Coulson over the radio as the reason he had had to pull back the first time. Now he was being the good little handler, and preparing a way out for them before they got overrun. 

 

So he sat in the car, lights off and the snow coming down heavily, waiting, finally he saw Coulson approach slowly through the blizzard, the man was limping heavily. Knowing that Coulson wouldn’t be able to see his gun, because of the snowed up windows in the dark, he eased his automatic out and chambered a round, and waited. The car door began to be open slowly, and Coulson was framed in the doorway, it was only then he brought his hand up fired two shots in quick succession. But Coulson must have seen the movement, and twisted to the side, somehow managing to avoid being hit and slammed the door closed on him. 

 

David swore under his breath as he struggled to get the driver’s side door open, and get out of the car, he managed it in time to see Coulson, struggling to flee from him through the heavy snow. He fired even though he was having trouble seeing through the driving snow. Coulson’s body jerked upright and he saw him staggered a few feet and then fall onto a drift of snow, and rolled into the alleyway, leaving a thick bloody trail in the snow behind him. 

 

Just as he was about to go after him, to make sure with a head shot, David heard a heavy vehicle coming towards him, it was a snow plough. He had no option but to leave Coulson for dead, he got back into the car and drove slowly down the road, but he couldn’t see him, the snow fall was getting even heavier. Even if Coulson had managed to drag himself off, it wouldn’t do him any good, because if the bullet didn’t kill him the cold would. It was a risk David knew it, he was gambling that Coulson was dead, but he was willing to risk it. Once he got back to the safe house he reported in that due to failure in Intel and the horrific weather conditions, the mission had failed and that he had lost his asset in the action. Control was sympathy, and the mission update was logged in. When he called back in later he would confirm Coulson’s death, and no one could blame him for not completing the mission with his specialist dead. 

 

0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Frank was angry, and he made sure that everyone even Director bloody Palmer knew it, his asset was missing believed dead, and he was going to find him. Heather Kent knew it was useless to try and stop her husband, not when he heard that his partner was missing believed dead. 

 

He had jumped the first SHIELD plane to Chicago, and walked through every line of Gate’s report on the ground, and it wasn’t adding up right. It had taken him another three days, of checking every police and ambulance response on that night to find his partner. But finally he did. Phil Coulson was in a Chicago hospital under the name of John Doe. He was critical. The doctors hadn’t wanted to give out any information on Phil until he had pulled out his SHIELD badge and read the riot act to them. The doctors told him straight, their patient was only alive because the cold had slowed his bleeding, which had given him the vital edge he had needed to survive the attack. SHIELD wasn’t the only people interested in Phil Coulson; the police had a guard on him waiting for him to come to, so they could question him about the bullet wounds he had suffered. Frank hadn’t even bothered about them; he had just swept in with a full SHIELD medical team, scooped his asset up and flown out two hours later. 

 

While Frank’s report made grim reading for the Director, the bullet taken from Phil’s body, matched the personal weapon of Agent Gates. When Phil was finally able to give his version of the events, Agent David Gates had vanished, taking with him some items from R&D which he would be able to sell on armourment black-market. 

 

Once Phil was able to be released from SHIELD medical, Frank had all but kidnapped his partner and install him in the guest bedroom with Heather’s blessing. Somehow he wasn’t surprised when Phil soon became a firm favourite with Heather and the twins, and it amused him to see them, curled up on the couch with Phil as he read to them from one of their favourite Enid Bryton. The Surgeon was becoming human.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Eight years later  
Phil Coulson was now a senior agent and a potential Sub-Director of the dark, a respected handler, and considered one of the best planners in SHIELD. He was a Level 8, and Frank had retired from the field the moment that Coulson made level 6, he knew that would never meet another agent that would so personally suit him, and he couldn’t face breaking in a new lost soul. So he went into training, and enjoyed the myths and legend that built up round his ex-partner, and enjoyed it even more because most of them were true. But he never forgot even now as he was sharing a quick meal in the cafeteria, how dangerous Phil actually was. 

 

One of the cocky new agents had mistaken Phil for a pencil pusher, and tried to show off by beating down the bookkeeper, as the man called him. The junior agent had ended up with a dislocated shoulder and knee, a broken nose and a pen pressing against his eye that any second could penetrated his brain and kill him outright. Done by a bookkeeper that has moved that fast he hadn’t seen him coming until it was too late. That junior agent had just learned a most dangerous lesion, and one which if Phil wasn’t too pissed off he might walk away from. If not Palmer had a method of getting rid of the bodies. 

 

Four hours later, Sub-Director Johnson, had Phil and a group of Junior Agents heading out for a joint mission with the Project. Little knowing that Phil Coulson was about to cross paths with a certain Lycan from his past, and nothing was ever going to be the same again. 

 

The story continues in “Welcome to the Dark Side – The Past - Chapter 1.


End file.
